Undo Your Mind
by lifeloveandoilpaint
Summary: Knowledge, sanity, survival. Pick two. (Gets kicking after chapter 2, hang in there folks.)
1. Chapter 1

June 6, 2013

D-Day; I can't help but giggle about the irony.

I suppose if you're reading this, I'm long gone. But I figured I should use today to write everything down, just in case. I want you to know the whole story, the one I didn't know when I first came here.

It all started with a simple walk on Beltane. See, the summer holidays serve two purposes for me—a spiritual re-awakening at every turn of the wheel (you'll have to get used to my Pagan talk), and an excuse to get away from town, even if only for a couple hours. Here in the Bible Belt, most people aren't that considerate toward anything that isn't a Baptist or an oil rig. The former was rather uncomfortable, and as for the latter… let's just say there were days when I wished I could be a piece of machinery, but it never panned out.

Anyway, Beltane. For me, that meant a walk in the woods to welcome the faeries and reconnect with the Earth as she came into bloom. Grass was springing to life, trees had sprouted leaves, and everything was pregnant with the coming summer.

A fair warning: You may not believe me. You may think I was hallucinating, or that I'm just plain lying, but I can assure you I remember it all very clearly.

Around sunset on Beltane, the first night of May, I parked my creaky white truck in the gravelly patch beside the local wilderness reserve. I was still spitting out profanities about the moron who had tailgated me on the road. My worn, black sneakers landed on the gravel with a crunch, and I slammed my truck door shut without much thought. I shoved my keys into my pocket instinctively, and then clicked my flashlight to life. Everything was in working order. Admittedly, I should've taken my cell phone with me instead of leaving it in the driver seat, but let's not focus on that.

The orange light of the sun simmered through the trees, defiant of the coming night. As I strolled into the thick canopy of the foliage, I remember thinking it looked as if the edges of the leaves were being set alight. It was really beautiful; magical, even. Naturally, I had no idea what was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

As I walked, my skin was tingling. I initially attributed it to faeries—the ancient spirits always cause a little extra electricity right around that time of year. In retrospect, I probably should've known that wasn't them.

The evening light melted reluctantly into purples and blues, and my eyes adjusted to the night with ease. The pale grey and tan hues of the walking path almost glowed in the darkness; I didn't need that flashlight just yet. The air had cooled after sunset, but it was rid of the bitterness of the winter. I might've even said it was refreshing, had it not been for a growing discomfort that was swimming up my spine. Faeries don't cause that, I knew. A light charge in the air, yeah. Slight discomfort, more likely if you're littering. But apprehension? No, I knew that wasn't the faeries. I paused to glance around for a moment, my eyes settling on a nearby bench.

I sat down tenderly—you never know how sturdy those weathered wooden contraptions are—and took a moment to just breathe. The depth of the darkness had engulfed the woods totally by then. I stubbornly disregarded my flashlight; the blanket of night had always seemed a strange comfort to me, and frankly I was more wary of what I might trip over in a dark room than the lack of light itself. Something (I figured a June bug) brushed against my spine, and the muscles in my back instantly tensed. My hand flew to my back, finding nothing there but the thin fabric of my shirt.

But my fingers had grazed something I didn't expect.

From the back of the bench's broad seat, my hand latched onto a piece of paper. I yanked it from the wood and held it in front of me while I clicked my flashlight on. Though it had given me no trouble earlier, this time it flickered to life. I thought nothing of it.

The paper was crumpled, slightly torn, and had more than a few smudges of dirt. Crudely scribbled on the paper were the eloquent words, "No no no no no no no no no no no no," decorated by a lovely doodle of a tall, suited, faceless Men in Black agent in the center of the sheet. I rolled my eyes. _Typical. Everyone hates the fed. Welcome to the South_.

I really should have been paying attention then. However, even though things certainly felt a little off, I folded the paper, shoved it into my back pocket, and stood up from the bench.


	3. Chapter 3

I reached my palms toward the sky, brushing several low-hanging branches with my fingertips, and then bent over to touch my toes. I guess you could say that's when things started getting interesting.

Two things happened at that moment.

First, I noticed that the forest had gone silent. The woods usually were quiet at night, quiet in the way of a sleeping child's breathing. But on this night, it was as if the breath had been taken from the land. No tiny creatures rustled in the foliage, no gentle wind stirred the trees. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Second, as I was bending over, I could have sworn I saw a tall shadow beside a tree. I jolted up and spun around, ready to use my keychain pepper spray if I had to, but the figure was gone. After a moment of waiting and holding my breath, I shrugged nervously. _Probably seeing things_, I told myself. _Better use that light_.

_Again with the flickering_. I smacked the flashlight against the heel of my hand until the light streamed consistently.

In hindsight, all the little things add up easily. However, in the moment, I just kept walking. I could have described to you the whole wilderness reserve and every route through it in my sleep, and having placed my confidence in that I told myself I had nothing to fear. And I must admit, it was a pleasant night aside from the knot I had growing in the pit of my stomach.

I must have found at least seven more scraps of paper that first evening, each of them a little more foreboding than the last. _Maybe someone is trying to pull a prank_, I reasoned with myself. Stupid, right? But I kept on, enjoying the night air as I went.

Upon reaching my favorite clearing, I breathed a sigh of relief and plopped down in the grass. This place felt sacred and, perhaps more importantly, safe. I yanked my shoes and socks off my feet and wiggled my toes. Setting my feet into the earth, I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Meditation has always been comforting to me. So, as you can imagine, I was quite surprised when, instead of the peaceful lull of my quiet mind, I found my senses throbbing as if some low, constant beat was tugging at my brainstem. I shivered, a quick and involuntary shudder, and let my hand go to the back of my neck as I opened my eyes—

Instantly, I froze.

There on the edge of the clearing, between two thin birch trees, stood an inhumanly tall and lanky man. Faceless, white as snow, clad in a black suit and tie. My breath was caught in my throat, eyes stuck at their widest. The figure merely stood—either I was locked in his gaze or he was locked in mine, I can't be certain—and stared back at me. Everything was dead silent; not even the wind in the trees made a sound.

Then, screaming in my head like white noise:

_Why are you here?_


	4. Chapter 4

Like a startled deer, I bolted.

Was it smart of me to leave my shoes and the flashlight? No. Actually, it was incredibly moronic. But when the fight or flight instinct kicks in, you don't contemplate. You just go.

I ran the quickest route I knew back to the gravel parking lot. When my feet were bloody from thistles and rocks and weeds and the journey was taking three times as long as it ought to have taken, I stopped. I knew my way out. I should have been out by then.

That first night was only the very beginning, the tip of the iceberg. See, no matter what route I took, everything led me in circles.

I spent the first two weeks running futilely, even in daylight. I did what I could to survive; I knew how to find water, and the food I could get was enough to scrape by. Every couple days I would let myself sleep, a dark and nightmarish sleep, in a tree. But I was too afraid to stay in any one place for long. It all seemed so surreal, like I might wake up at any moment in my bed.

Home felt like a far-off fantasy.

Occasionally I would see a faint silhouette watching me, usually at quite a distance. When I saw this, I didn't think—I just ran.

Had I only known what was to come, I might not have bothered running.


	5. Chapter 5

It was during the third week things really started to get strange. (As if they hadn't already.)

Though I stayed on the move almost constantly, I found myself succumbing to awful headaches before sleep. Where at first I asked the gods for help—even screaming out to Cernunnos on more than one occasion—I began to believe I might call on the Fae for protection. Despite the fact that the forest was alive only in appearance and most certainly unappealing to the little folk, I was desperate. Each time I allowed myself to sleep, I would prick my finger and give the only offering I had, hoping someone might hear my pleas and come to my aid.

The first time anything actually came, it was definitely not what I had been begging for.

I remember how it was; I was so tired, so helplessly tired. I used the sharp end of a stick to cut into the flesh of my palm, and then over the roots of an ancient-looking tree I pinched out three drops of adrenaline-overdosed blood. "Please," I murmured, "Herne… Let me out…"

Then came the ache, coiling like a snake in the base of my skull. This time, though, it was accompanied by a voice shrouded in static.

_Not leaving._

I would have run then, like a frightened rabbit, but my limbs and eyelids were so heavy. Cringing with the pain in my head, I turned around to find myself face to face with the tall suited figure.

I stared blankly into the faceless whiteness inches away from my own face. Behind his broad, black-clad shoulders I could see tendrils, like streams of thick black smoke, emerging from his back. He cocked his head slightly, as if curious, and I watched as the pale skin of (what I assumed to be) his brow furrowed.

I know I muttered something then, my speech hopelessly slurred, along the lines of "Are you a god?"

His head tilted ever so slightly this way and that, as if he was surveying me.

Finally, with terrible static that echoed behind my eyes came the response:

_Older._

Then I blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up in my bed. My cat was curled up beside my neck, and my alarm clock was honking at me. Time to get up.

A few shuffling steps later, I had the coffee pot going. I decided to take a shower while it was brewing. The hot water poured down my tense neck, saturated my dark hair, trickled off my breasts, and pooled around my toes.

I turned the water off and pulled aside the curtain. My reaching fingers latched onto the plush white of my towel, and I stepped out, wrapping myself in the towel and dripping on my floor as I made my way to the sink.

Next, I looked up into the mirror over the sink. A tall, suited creature stood behind me, motionless and expressionless.

My eyes shot open. My limbs were achy and cold, and my skin was coated in a cool sweat. I was crumpled on the forest floor. Suicide certainly occurred to me then, but I was too curious about where I was to do it. _Not yet_, I told myself.

In front of me stood a house I had never seen in these woods. The sagging roof and rotting wood, though probably less than appealing under any other circumstances, seemed almost inviting to me. I picked myself up and clumsily stumbled inside without much thought. I was becoming too bitter for thought.

The place was desolate. Every room was empty, but full of a foreboding energy. The floors were coated in dust and dirt, and the few windows were shattered. The walls splotched with mold, peeling shreds of wallpaper, and graffiti. I didn't bother looking at the ceilings; didn't want to scare myself about the potential of a collapsing roof. A lone staircase led to a dank second floor where the thick branch of a tree had pushed its way in through a broken window. After a few minutes of poking around, I managed to get some sense and sprinted back downstairs. I figured maybe the kitchen cabinets might have something useful for me.

I must have checked every drawer and cabinet twice. Nothing but dust and a few rat skeletons. Fucking hell.

Then the static invaded my head again.


	7. Chapter 7

I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and then turned, words already spilling from my mouth. "What do you want?"

The figure stood in the doorway to the tiny barren kitchen, perfectly calm. He didn't reply.

"What the fuck do you want?" I spat.

Nothing.

I threw my arms up in defeat. "Show me something. Say something. Kill me. Fucking _do_ something!"

He didn't move an inch.

(Now, by this point, let's just agree to understand that I was wildly delusional. Admit it, you would be, too. And that's why I did the next thing I did.)

Angrily, exhaustedly, I walked right up to the creature and threw my fist up into his jaw.

His head stayed cocked to the side for a brief moment, during which time I began to question the decision I'd just made. Then, slowly, he turned his head back to face me. Several of the black tentacles emerging from his spine molded themselves into one, and before I could run the massive tendril that had formed flung me across the house. I hit back-first into the wall, my head cracking against it after the rest of me, and then my body buckled to the floor. Before I could see straight again, the tall figure was already standing over me. My face scrunched into a deep grimace as the white noise roared in my head.

As if it would help my cause, I shielded my face with my forearm. But instead of attacking again, he knelt beside me, tentacles retracting into his back. In a gesture I could only hope was one of peace, he touched his cool fingertips to my raised arm. I lowered it. He took my jaw in his spidery hand and turned my face, examined my features, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His long fingers combed into my hair, reaching toward the back of my head. Were the experience not thoroughly terrifying, I might have called his actions comforting.

Suddenly, his grip tightened and my head was yanked back. I squirmed, feeling like a helpless insect caught in an arachnid's clutches.

_Why are you here?_

"Beltane," I choked out in a sharp whisper. "Honor the forest—welcome faeries—holiday—"

_How very human._

"Wh—what?" I sputtered.

_Walk the earth; forget you are prey._

I tried to shake my head, but his hold on my scalp was too tight. I must've looked like I was twitching uncontrollably. "No, no," I tried to explain. "Please."

_Fragile. Impermanent._

"Yes, exactly," I smiled desperately. "Yes, yes. Honor the Earth… honor the ancient ones… like you. Beltane. Fire, dancing, fertility, summer."

_You think yourself amusing._

I glowered. There was no point in reasoning. "Let me go," I demanded flatly.

_No_.

"Why?"

_Because you _are_ amusing._


	8. Chapter 8

Suddenly, he was gone.

So was the house.

I propped myself up on one arm and pushed myself to my feet. Brushing dirt off my jeans, I took a glance around. I was still in a forest, but these were definitely not the same woods I had been in. Spongy green ferns lined the forest floor, and the trees were much taller than the ones I was used to; a few feet to my right, huge slabs of rock jutted out of the ground.

The sound of movement a few yards away startled me, and I spun around, squinting to find its source. As you can imagine, when my eyes settled on two hikers making their way uphill about thirty yards to my left, I felt absolutely euphoric.

I frantically ran toward them, tripping over my own feet more than once. _God, I must look like a sight_, I remember thinking. I was worried they'd think me a lunatic, flailing toward them, covered in every soil and stain imaginable. As I got closer, I could see one of them was a tall man clad in a tan jacket and faded blue jeans. His dark, short, curly hair barely stuck out from beneath his worn red ball cap, and his the mahogany skin of his neck took on an amber glow in the bits of late afternoon sunlight breaking through the trees. The other hiker was shorter, a pale and athletic woman, her skin flushed with pink. She trudged along in her deep green flannel shirt tucked haphazardly into a pair of khaki shorts.

"Hey!" I called out, waving to them. "Hey, hello!"

The two paused, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then they smiled at each other and talked a bit, the woman sipping from her water bottle while the man pointed into the distance and explained something.

I didn't think much of it, to be honest. In the moment it's easier to be optimistic. So I went right up to them, putting on my best smile in spite of my disheveled appearance. "Hey," I started, "God, it's good to see someone out here…"

"—up the trail there, it's easy, really. And the view, it's beautiful…" the man continued. "And you should see it in autumn sometime. Everything reds and golds."

"Wow," the woman nodded. "Sounds great."

My face fell slack. I prodded the man in his chest. "Hello?" I said pathetically. I tried waving several more times, even with my hands right in front of their faces. Neither of the hikers reacted to me. It was as if…

_They can't see you._

The static filled my head, and I gritted my teeth. "So I noticed," I mumbled. There was no point in running or fighting.


End file.
